


Adrift (a different place from the world I knew)

by AOMGsus (BigBangObsessed)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Half-Human, Human Experimentation, Human/Robot Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Loss of Identity, M/M, Science Fiction, Self-Acceptance, Self-Denial, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBangObsessed/pseuds/AOMGsus
Summary: Kyungsoo, a robotically-enhanced human, has been working as an assassin for the past five years. Left to die after his master’s passing, he finds himself rescued by a brotherly group of friends. But how can Kyungsoo learn to become human again when he’s been trained for so long to forget?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to be writing a chaptered fic again, but I have a quick heads-up for you!  
> Kyungsoo is programmed to be a killer- there will be references to death and murder, along with minor violence. But it WON'T be in gruesome detail because I don't see that as pertinent to his development as a character. (Plus blood freaks me out and I am not about to go making myself anxious for fun. So fear not, squeamish readers!)

  It wasn’t like they had left the house that morning expecting anything out of the ordinary. In fact, the group hadn’t headed anywhere or new that day. The day just seemed too _normal_ to prompt anything life-changing. With Minseok majoring in mechanical engineering and Sehun enjoying tinkering with anything he could get his hands on, they actually frequented this lot quite often. Finding cheap parts in abundance was a great way to keep their youngest happy -and if he wasn’t he would let _everyone_ know until he got his way- and so they often made weekly trips here.

 There was the matter of Minseok needing the practice for his future, of course, but the maknae’s whining always seemed to make other matters feel irrelevant.

 The area was always fairly vacant. Or rather, nobody did anything here but pass through with their heads down on the way to the nearest bus stop. Apart from that, and the occasional group of schoolchildren headed home, the group never saw anybody around. It made plenty of sense given the neighborhood’s condition. Desolate streets most used by lost travelers gave way to empty, cracked sidewalks that lead to empty buildings. The color scheme comprised of dirt-stained exterior paint, exposed concrete and filthy brick, and a general sense of depression. Were it not for the rotating pile of parts outside of this particular complex, the boys would have been none the wiser as to whether or not somebody actually lived here. But they kept their curiosities to themselves and worked with haste. When there wasn’t anyone else around to ask, and they were only around to pillage from someone’s trash, it would have made for an awkward confrontation.

 They had split up into designated groups to get parts and leave as soon as possible. Minseok naturally took up monitoring Baekhyun and Jongdae on motors; Sehun was guiding Yixing and Chanyeol on wiring with some intervention from their resident mechanics major; ever the organizer, Junmyeon sorted and stored the other men’s finds; Jongin put his strength towards collecting acceptable scrap metal for the frame- and exterior, if they were feeling ambitious enough. Junmyeon had nearly pitched a fit about sending Jongin to the opposite side of the building alone, but Minseok had used his superiority as eldest to ensure that the younger knew how to take care of himself. “He has a voice and knows how to use it in case anything happens,” he’d reasoned.

 Besides, working with robotics was tough, and the model Sehun had wanted to try was particular (always high-maintenance, they teased). And so they had let Jongin go -still with qualms from Junmyeon- to search the larger pieces in the next alley over.

 Except sometimes, when things take a turn for the worst, the feeling of dread becomes heavy enough to suffocate and one forgets how to speak, let alone breathe. This was where Jongin had happened to find himself on the other side of that building. Limbs frozen in submission to fear, paralyzed, eyes not even daring to move. Unable to look away because if he did maybe the body would move and he wasn’t sure if it would be better to deal with a dead body or a live one ready to attack him. Either way his heartbeat was loud, pounding in his ears, obscuring the sound of the others calling for him like they had been routinely every few minutes to know nothing was wrong. To make sure nothing like this had happened. To make sure that he was okay, and hadn’t done something mortifying. That he hadn't perhaps found a lifeless body, perhaps around his age. And that said body wouldn't have a face of innocence, of naivety that had been stolen by whoever had chosen to end him and dump him here, not even obscuring his body among the piles of old parts.

  But all of this _had_ happened. Jongin had found a body, he was staring right at one and this was far from okay. And he’d been too busy studying that near cherubic face and seemingly pristine clothes to hear Baekhyun run around the corner to find him. Funny how the death of this total stranger could eclipse the presence of one of his closest friends and sap the life from his limbs.

  “Jongin, did you not hear us? Junmyeon is about to freak out over there and if-” The lilting sound of Baekhyun’s voice catches in his throat instantly. His near-skipping steps scuffle to a stop and Jongin still notices nothing. Only when he feels Baekhyun’s hand on his does he fully realize what this means: this is real. They had just found the victim of a murder. “H-holy shit,” the older man chokes out, and suddenly Jongin feels just as nauseous as Baekhyun sounds. “Jongdae,” he struggles for words again, gripping so hard it probably hurts but Jongin still feels nothing. Baekhyun’s voice quakes as he beckons to the others again- is he crying? Are they both? “Jongdae, _guys!_ ”

 Junmyeon is first around the corner, like he was waiting for a sign to go. Jongdae, first to be beckoned, is quick on his tail. He spots the body and he’s on the ground right away, kneeling to check for vitals as Junmyeon makes a beeline for Baekhyun and Jongin himself. It must be second nature in him to respond so fast to panic, Jongin muses fleetingly. Jongdae’s mother had been a nurse in the emergency room since he was a kid; he’d once mentioned seeing her do this at water parks and baseball games loads of times. Probably easy to adopt the habit when you grow up around it. Jongin watches his work over Junmyeon’s shoulder.

 “Jongin, look at me. Please, just me. Just pretend that isn’t there for a second okay? Focus on me.” He’s reminded that the figure between him and his discovery is human as hands cup his cheeks. Junmyeon is wiping away his tears as the others file in, begin to process what they’re seeing. But he can’t stop crying and he can’t look away because he isn’t staring at a _that_ , he’s staring at a _him_ and that _him_ looks so young and delicate and there’s no life left in that small body. He feels the disturbing impulse to hug that lifeless form in this fit of panic, this devastating loss over someone he never met. But he can’t tell Junmyeon that, can’t tell any of them. He still can’t make himself speak. He can only watch Jongdae work with serious eyes and trembling hands. And listen to Yixing hushing Chanyeol’s sobs, Baekhyun clinging to his other side. And Minseok soothing Sehun as the youngest throws up his lunch behind a dumpster. And wonder what they’ll do with any of this. How they’ll get back to normal.

 Jongdae is double checking, triple checking like he missed something. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was doing, he’d even taken up life guarding for many years as a summer job. And nobody could fake death as realistically as this. Yet his hands flutter along the prone form. Wrist, neck, chest, repeat. _Why is he confused?_ “What’s wrong, Jongdae?” Yixing asks softly for all of them, squeezing the trembling bodies engulfing his own as hard as he can manage. The nurse’s son shakes his head minutely, chewing on his lip in thought.

 “I don’t get it. There’s nothing there, no pulse, but…”

 “But what?” Their emotional healer prompts, stroking Chanyeol slowly from shoulder to waist. Of all people, Chanyeol -so full of hope for the world and life- was by far least capable of being able to properly process seeing something as devoid of optimism as this.

 “There’s nothing proving how he died. No wounds, no signs of asphyxiation. He’s clearly not been drowned. He could’ve maybe been poisoned, but...” Jongdae shakes his head again, hesitantly reaching up to touch his heart once more. There’s barely time for him to finish his gasp before he’s reaching to undo the young man’s button-up shirt with hasty fingers. Jongin wants to tell him to stop, to give the man his decency even though there’s no way the other party could really care. Junmyeon gently shushes him, eyes fixated on the only moving member of their unit. Time seems to stand still with Jongdae, who stares at whatever hid beneath the cloth in silence. “I don’t think he’s dead”. Solemnly, Jongdae looks up at all of them and tugs the fabric open wider. None of them are able to miss the small patch of wires peeking out from a metal plate on his breastbone. No blood to be seen. Like it belonged there. Like was one with him. “He’s not all human.”

  “So we could save him then.” Minseok speaks up as he produces a pack of gum and offers Sehun a piece. The youngest accepts it with shaking fingers, but he’s got enough wits about him to accept it and thank him. Another nod is all it takes for Junmyeon to come back to his leader senses.

 “I’ll get the car,” he offers right away, gesturing to someone. Jongin isn’t sure he could look away if someone paid him to. The face is already embedded in his mind. “Baekhyun, please take care of Jongin while I’m gone. We’ll need to flatten down the back seats and lay him down.” He’s mumbling even as he jogs away, leaving a smaller body to press into Jongin’s chest and hold him tight. It’s slowly becoming easier to process external sensations again, and the scent of Baekhyun’s fruity shampoo tickles his nose. He wipes his own tears numbly as the older boy’s dampen his shirt sleeve.

 Minseok, almost as small as the man himself, offers to carry him to the car. His skin is pallid, skin shining with nervous sweat, but his legs don’t give out under him as Jongin’s own nearly do when he goes to follow. He vaguely registers the nervous smile Sehun gives him upon passing but can’t seem to reciprocate. Chanyeol still hasn’t looked up from Yixing’s shoulder.

 When Jongin silently climbs into the backseat with him, nobody says otherwise. He figures none of them are crazy enough to want to sit with a corpse. He didn’t assume he was either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys excited? I am! Please keep in mind that I am a uni student, so my schedule is unpredictable, but I will do my best to update often.


	2. Chapter 2

 The first thing D.O notices is light. Something he never thought he’d see again. The next is voices- many of them. Much younger than the one he’s used to waking up to, much softer. There seems to be a stir in the atmosphere when he wakes up, more pairs of eyes than he’s comfortable with focusing on him. Especially because he doesn’t belong here- wherever here is. That much is certain, that everything is wrong.

 Before he has time to notice anything else he sees them- a heart monitor at his finger, a cord protruding from the processing system alongside his heart, an IV. More wires and tubes than he’s seen on and outside of his body since programming. Before he can even process it, his body is moving swiftly. His fingers rip off the tape and pluck the IV from his own skin with a precision so practiced that it’s second nature. And yet they nearly tremble, quiver, with a feeling he’s so out of touch with it’s entirely foreign. Emotion. It had been a while since he even remembered he had those.

 Crouching with the medical needle pointed like a weapon, D.O takes stock of his surroundings. The room is more cozy than any home he’s seen in a long while. Which makes sense, considering he’s only crept into the homes of a myriad of low-level drunks and high-status businessmen since he was taken. The number of men in the room nearly serves as a comfort to him- he could easily take all of them. End them with the meager instrument attached to the fluid bag they’d had him hooked up to and leave. It’s their appearance that truly unnerves him; every man already has his hands up in surrender, their backs against the wall opposite his bed. People don’t just give up so easily.

 “Who the hell are you?” The assassin demands in a hoarse croak. It’s not like he’s been given the opportunity to properly speak to anyone in years. “What is this place?”

 One of them steps forward, all soft eyes and sharp features. Something about the intensity of his brows makes D.O grip the needle firmer. Furrowed in concern or not, they incited a strange amount of unease in him. Lips stuck in a perpetual pout turn up at the corners in a cautious smile. “It’s alright. You’re safe now, nobody’s going to hurt you here alright? My name is Junmyeon.” His limbs seem to move by habit rather than instinct when he reaches out for a handshake. Their apprehensive guest would scoff at the naivety of it. That is, of course, if he weren’t too busy trying to jab at the palm as it encroaches on him as he’s attempting to do. The other man jerks back fairly quickly.

 “Alright, maybe not the best idea on my part,” he mumbles to himself. Then he takes a deep breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets so nobody can see them shaking. D.O knows they are anyways; precision is his game and he’s killed with needles far smaller than this one before. But he keeps quiet and allows Junmyeon to explain things. He learns that this place is a house, _their_ house, and that they found him out behind his master’s building with the scrap metal. It sounds a cheap attempt at playing hero. D.O still says nothing. What is there to say? How is he supposed to respond to any of this?

  He has to give Junmyeon credit for his unfailing calm. Smile firmly in place, he introduces the seven other men in the room. Some attempt to crack a smile at him, others stare in apprehension. The tallest one is tugging anxiously at the sleeves of anyone in his general area, whispering so faintly not even the men around him seem to catch what he’s trying to share with such urgency. D.O watches each of them with a practiced glare and rigidity in his form. It doesn’t take much for him to know they’re all scared out of their minds- he may not have emotions anymore, but he can read them just fine. But their fear means this isn’t one of his missions anymore. The old man is gone, he saw him die firsthand. That doesn’t matter now, none of that does, he needs answers.

 “But why?”

 “What do you mean why?” Another voice enters the space, this one more chipper by nature. A man with a lips like a feline and gentle eyes joins Junmyeon at his bedside. “People don’t need to have a particular reason to be helpful.”

 “Then what do you want? What good could I possibly do for any of you?”

 “Nothing,” Junmyeon responds with confusion in his eyes to mask the hurt. “We just couldn’t leave you to die.”

 Their guest’s mirthless scoff surprises more than just the others. Anything mildly similar to laughing felt so odd. “The last time I talked to a stranger I signed away my entire life. I don’t believe in goodwill.” Processing the weight of his words, the cyborg feels a sudden surge of guilt. Something about the look of utmost grief in Jongdae’s eyes incites a heavy feeling in his stomach and causes him to finally sink to his knees on the bed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just don’t know how to sugarcoat my situation.” Jongdae shakes his head, a more distilled smile back on his lips.

 “No, please don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot, yeah? Do whatever you need to process that.” Something about his presence is surprisingly reassuring, and D.O finds his grip finally relaxing around the needle. Smiling wider, Jongdae offers his open palm and a patient gaze. “Would you mind handing that back to me?” The assassin places it carefully in his hand. He supposes anything terrible that could happen to him now pales in comparison to what has happened.

 As he guides the needle back in Jongdae reassures that it’s meant to pinch, providing small talk and trivial questions to distract him. He responds out of courtesy, still apprehensive overall about how outnumbered he is in this room of strangers.

 The other sensation D.O can’t shake is how taboo it is to have normal human contact. He can’t remember the last time he felt hands with so much warmth or heard a voice with so much life.

 

\--

 

 After a dreamless sleep, D.O wakes up to the comfort of darkness and it’s almost like things are back to normal. The allusion is quickly shattered when he feels the soft embrace of a mattress below him, as opposed to the unforgiving concrete floor of the basement that his body has become so immune to. And the darkness is not from the looming figure of the old man above him, but of the fact that the sun doesn’t rise for several more hours. Oddly enough, he’d almost be less uneasy to find himself kidnapped- even bedridden here, he’s freer than he ever was traveling the streets and neighborhoods on his way from jobs and back. He’s _free_. What’s he supposed to do with that information?

 A soft snore at the foot of the bed alerts him of another body in the room. D.O allows his eyes to adjust and stiffens to see two of the men hosting him asleep in chairs. The lankier of the two is folded over, stomach resting on his knees with his long arms sprawled against the mattress. The other man sleeps curled in on himself, chin tucked into his chest. The one that had been staring so intensely earlier. He seems so much more peaceful in his sleep, D.O muses from within the blankets tucked up to his chin. He’s about to attempt to continue sleeping or wake either of them when the lanky one suddenly jolts awake.

 “Jongin,” he whispers softly, gently tugging the other male’s firm bicep. “Jongin, he’s up.” The other man’s innocent appearance instantly hardens into one of anxiety as his eyes flutter open. The assassin supposes he won’t hear Jongin speak any time soon. Must be a trauma thing. On the other hand, Chanyeol’s worked up a considerable blush, discernible even in the dark. “Hey, um… sorry if you didn’t exactly want the company right now. We were just both really worried and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 “It’s alright.” He shrugs and tries to replace the suspicion in his tone with nonchalance. “I suppose that makes sense, given the situation.”The other man’s pouty lips part to speak but he’s at a loss, carding a hand through his hair while scrambling for words. D.O rifles through his own thoughts for a way to contribute to the discussion. He may as well try- this half of the duo’s faring far better at caring than Jongin, who’s texting someone at a rapid pace. “You’re Chanyeol, correct?” The taller man nods and smiles- it seems forced, void of a certain warmth. It’s a smile he’s had to employ countless times to feign normalcy he’s long since lost.

 “Yeah, that’s me. I’m surprised you remembered with everything that happened earlier.”

 He shrugs again, folding the blankets down to rest around his chest rather than envelope him in their suffocating warmth. “I’ve learned to focus in even the most stressful times. That’s just my job.”

 Chanyeol doesn’t seem entirely sure of what to say to that. Jongin seems intent on not saying anything at all.

 Junmyeon makes his grand entrance at this time, with a tray of food and a smile that makes D.O feel so terribly out of place again. He doesn’t belong in this cute and cozy little home, where everyone in it cares so much for each other and seems so hopeful for the assassin to move past the last five hellish years of his life and join them in the land of everything peachy.

 “You’re awake, huh? I bet it was Chanyeol that woke you, I’m sorry about that. He’s always been a bit of a thrasher.” Smiling to himself at the indignant scoff of his younger friend, Junmyeon carefully sets the tray on D.O’s lap. He finds himself almost smiling back. “I figured you needed food, even just a little bit. Minseok and Jongdae say your body has been through a lot and I see that as an excuse to eat more.”

 “Thank you, Junmyeon. I suppose I could try to eat- oh.” One look at the array of food offered to him sends D.O nearly reeling. He can quite literally feel strain in his eyes over the sheer level of surprise on his face and in his mind.

 “What, did Junmyeon hyung get a hair in it again?” Chanyeol asks with a snicker. The oldest amongst them has a look in his eyes like he’d have slapped him already if they didn’t have company. Said company somewhat appreciates the restraint while choosing his words.

 “No, it’s just so… colorful. I don’t know that I’ve had this many colors on one plate before.”

 Chanyeol seems greatly agitated by this, eyebrows furrowed deep in concern as he watches Junmyeon for an answer he doesn’t have. “What do you mean? This is just basic Korean food… you’re from here, right? When’s the last time you ate?”

 “I haven’t been hungry once since initiation,” he promptly responds. Like he’s got something to lose for admitting how cruelly he’d been treated. Like he had someone to defend.

 “Then what did you eat?” They all watch closely as his fingers fumble for a moment with the chopsticks. It’s very unnerving.

 “Rice mostly. And chicken. The professor said too much personality in my food would cause me to retain too much personality overall. And self-expression is the enemy of true productivity.” The words feel cold and foreign in his mouth, planted there years ago like a weed and left to overpower all that was native and sacred. He tries to ignore the unpleasant feeling in his chest with a mouthful of rice, a nibble of kimchi. It’s easily the strongest flavor he’s had in ages.

 The group sits in comfortable silence- or so he figures, being so used to the quiet that too much conversation sets him on edge as of recent. Junmyeon pipes up after a few minutes, huffing softly to himself as though he’s forgotten something. “Where are our manners? We haven’t even asked for your name yet.” Feeling very much like the center of attention, the hitman sets down his mug of seaweed soup and timidly licks his lips clean.

 “My name is D.O.”

  The born leader of the group raises an eyebrow, looking none too convinced. “D.O?” The addressed male merely nods. “But that’s not a proper birth name at all.” This time a shake of the head.

 “No, it was assigned to me.”

 “Then what about your real name?” Junmyeon laughs in a way that sounds far from amused, eyebrows drawn tight in confusion. “I can’t imagine that you could just forget that so easily.” One more nod.

 “You’re right, but I was forced to forget it. A name is a very personal thing that I wasn’t allowed to keep. He used to say ‘anything reminiscent of your past prevents you from reaching your goals for the future’.” There’s something that doesn’t sit right in D.O’s stomach about being able to perfectly recite his captor’s words as his own. But he quickly blames the sensation on hunger and goes for some of his salad.

 “Is there a reason for the name?” Chanyeol inquires in a soft tone, waiting until he’s between bites to be polite. He begins to use the empty chopsticks to trace the raised lips of his side dish plates.

 “I was the fourth subject in the experiments to modify me into what I am now. The others -Kris, Zitao, Luhan- they got to keep their names. That just ended up being an inconvenience to the cause, so things were different with me. Plan A, B, C, and D.” He briefly gestures to himself at the final letter before picking up a piece of pickled radish. “Zero was just the first number on my operating system’s serial code and it stuck.”

 “There was more than person subjected to this kind of treatment?” Junmyeon sounds genuinely revolted by the very idea, and his curled upper lip undoubtedly enforces that.

 “Three others, yes. But they all failed for various reasons.” He uses the chopsticks to play with individual pieces of rice in his bowl. This feeling was much different from hunger and far more unpleasant. Nerves perhaps? They were wretched. “My body was just the only one that could conform and survive. For better or for worse.”

 “Are you okay?” Jongin finally asks, disrupting the long stretch of silence. The sound of his voice is strained and hoarse, but D.O can relate from years of neglecting his own. Each male seems equally as confused with the outburst as the man himself. Taking a moment to consider, D.O shrugs.

 “As good as I can be, I suppose. I am alive.” That doesn’t seem to be what Jongin wanted. He just isn’t sure what else to say.

 “It really scared me, finding you there.” He speaks after a few moments. There seems to be more on his mind, but the glassy look in his eyes returns and his lips press into a hard line.

 “What did I look like?” The house guest asks with a sort of inquisition he’s gone so long without, biting a sizable yet polite piece of one of his pajeon slices. Jongin’s eyes fully glaze over as he stares at the bedspread.

 “Dead.”

 D.O feels himself scoff again. He must have smirked too, feels the quirk of his lips before he knows it’s happening. The most demure of them looks up at him instantly. “Why is that funny?” The affronted undertone in Jongin’s voice is strong.

 “I forgot I was even capable of dying. I’ve been engineered so far beyond humanity that I forgot you can’t fix mortality.”

 There isn’t much that any average human, D.O realizes, can say or do to make sense of that.

 It's the tallest of the three that speaks up after a while. D.O has long since finished his meal, but none of them seem awake or emotionally prepared enough to continue the conversation. “Well we didn’t mean to wake you or waste your time like this, and it is getting pretty late-” Reaching for his phone like he means to check the time, Chanyeol’s lips form something akin to both a grimace and a pout. D.O can already assume why when the only light on his face is still from the bedside lamp. “Shoot, my phone is dead.”

 “Electronics just do that,” The cyborg responds passively with a gesture at his own body. Jongin’s chin seems to quiver at that, lips twitching down at the corners. He tries not to read too far into it. “It should be alright if you charge it, I assume?”

 “Not exactly.” Timidly, Chanyeol gestures at the wire leading out of the sleeve of D.O’s borrowed shirt. The one in his chest. “That’s actually my charger.”

 He supposes it should hurt to know that his body is depending on the cord to such a commonplace item. Something to buy on impulse, use and abuse until it fails to function, and then toss away. Something so disposable. Maybe if he could feel it would; the look of guilt and profound pain in all three men’s eyes tells him so.

 He just doesn’t _feel_ anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Ack I'm so sorry that I'm going slow with this. Chaptered fics are a challenge to me as is, and with school it's even harder. But I'm still having a lot of fun with this and I hope you all are too~


	3. Chapter 3

 “So what do we do?”

 And though Sehun had been the only one to verbalize the question, that had been the pressing matter on all of their minds. Since the moment D.O had happened into their lives, dropped directly into their laps by fate, the days had become a constant game of wondering what the next step was.

 The biggest concern, of course, was whether or not they were truly doing the right thing. It was one thing to save someone’s life- this was far beyond that. They had not only saved his life, but practically brought him back from death, given him a bed in their home, and allowed this mysterious stranger with a violent background to sleep in an unlocked room even when they slept. And none of them had objected once. It was bordering on insanity, honestly.

 They lost sleep thinking of it, of course, all of them did. But they couldn’t just _leave_ a man there. Junmyeon’s reassured by this fact more than anyone else is- even if everything else about it is wrong, leaving someone out on the street seemed like the worst thing to do. Even if their guest seemed intent to go right back once they got him to health. But what else can they do but try? Perfectly comfortable as the leader type, Junmyeon finishes the last of his breakfast and slowly pulls the chopsticks from between his teeth as he mulls over the words in his head.

 “I think we’d all be more comfortable with D.O staying here if we knew more about him.” Setting down his dishes, the male pushes back his unruly bedhead with a soft sigh. “It’s been about what, four days now?

 “We can’t learn to understand his situation without knowing who he is first,” Yixing points out between slow sips from his coffee cup. Chanyeol nods, wagging his finger in the older man’s direction like he’s onto something.

 “Yeah, we don’t even have the half of it. When we talked that first night, he kept mentioning specific things. Talking about some man he just calls “Him”, some sort of initiation...” His hand drops back to the upholstery, limp against his thigh. The lost expression on Chanyeol’s face is something each man empathizes strongly with by this point. Baekhyun steps in to finish off his thought.

 “I know we don’t want to be intrusive, but… he’s been here for half a week. And all we know is that he was taken from his old life and- _created_.” The young man licks his lips and fidgets with the rim of one of his bowls anxiously. Junmyeon nods again, more purpose set in his eyes.

 “Great, so we’ll ask him after breakfast. Jongdae, Minseok, you said he’s...”

 “He’s almost back to health,” Jongdae pipes up in an a near chipper tone. “Should be his last time on the IV drip today, and I’ve given him the go-ahead to walk around as he pleases.” The oldest nods, nudging Sehun lightly as encouragement to give their report. The youngest pops up into straighter posture with a sense of importance that seems to fill the rest of his oversized sweatshirt.

 “He’s doing good from a mechanics standpoint too. As far as we can tell, I mean.” Their youngest pauses, brows furrowed in thought as he recalls the finer details. “His health returning to normal means there’s no potential leakage or malfunctioning from whatever hardware he’s got, so… he should be normal soon.”

 “To be fair, I’m never quite normal.”

 Emerging from the hallway with virtually silent footsteps is D.O. The slight man is nearly engulfed by his borrowed pajama shirt, sleeves cascading over his hands and a good portion of his IV tube. Everyone in the room jumps and grips each other faster than they’ve done anything else all morning. Almost reliably, Baekhyun and Jongdae are quick to release screams too loud for such a mild interruption. Yixing would most likely huff about the loudness if he too weren’t shocked into silence. “Sorry,” He offers with a noncommittal shrug. “I didn’t think I was being terribly stealthy.”

 “No it’s alright. We were talking about you, after all.” Jongin smiles encouragingly and beckons him over to the L-shaped couch. His small figure moves across the room to join them with little apprehension. It’s hard not for the rest of them not to be endeared by how D.O seems to have gained trust in the man that found him. Technically they all had, but nobody had been as anxious to constantly keep an eye on him as Jongin had. The first night, the younger man hadn’t spoken a word until D.O had woken up. Even if he’d refused eye contact and barely said a word. Now they sat closer than the android had come to anybody -even if he was an arms length away from anyone, progress was progress. Satisfied, they all return to their breakfasts. All but Junmyeon, who’d been up earliest to cook.

 “Would you like something to eat?” He offers with a warm smile, gathering his own dishes from the coffee table. “I assume you’d be hungry, you nearly slept twelve hours again.” The other man nods with a polite smile.

 “I find it just as odd as you all must, Junmyeon-ssi. More, if anything.” D.O plays with his shirt sleeves idly, confusion settling on his features. “I used to sleep not even half as much. Five hours if I was lucky; there was always something for me to do.” There's a profound amount of pity on the other men's faces when he looks back up. “I’m sorry, was that too personal?”

 “It probably feels better to talk it out than to just keep it in though, right?” A deep voice that sounds familiar but gruff with sleep makes his stomach churn in an odd way. Chanyeol. The cyborg had never realized how deep his voice was. Considering it a moment, he nods.

 “It does.” He faces the lanky man draped across Jongdae and Yixing’s laps to make eye contact, smiling. “Thank you.” Chanyeol merely responds with a bashful half-smile. His ears have flushed a red fiercer than anything else about him.

 Junmyeon comes back from the kitchen, humming something that sounds dated for how young he must be. The slightest smell of sesame oil makes D.O’s stomach growl loud enough for everyone to hear it. Baekhyun is gripping Sehun’s knee as he fails to stop himself from snickering. “If you want anything else let me know, okay? And don’t be afraid to ask for seconds, I made plenty.” Taking the bowl with a small yet gracious smile, their guest too begins to eat. The room lapses into comfortable silence.

 After a few minutes of contented eating, a strange sort of guilt casts over his features. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention that he’s burdened with the weight of something- they just don’t have the nerve to ask. The man sets down his dishes with a determined look, nervously clearing his throat. “I’ve been thinking,” he utters softly. “I know it may not come off this way, especially not at first, but… I appreciate this. What you’re all doing for me. It must be a total nuisance, and it has to be impacting your daily lives far more than you’ll admit.” He glances around and is met with similar grimaces of agitation and denial, but he persists. If he stops and lets any of them talk now, the chances he’ll get the urge to bring it up again are low.

 “So I’ve decided that I owe you at least something in return. And that, if anything, it would be good for you all to know why we’re here now. Why we met. So if you want...” The resolve stays set in his jaw as it twitches uneasily. “I’ll be willing to answer any questions about my past. Any of them. I know I pose as a threat to your safety and I want to try to eliminate the thought of that fear as much as possible.”

 “You aren’t a threat,” Yixing assures in his soft voice. “You’re still human, no matter what happened to you. You’re still a person. Even if we have differences, that’s okay.” There are unanimous hums and nods of agreement. D.O sighs, eyes drifting from his hosts to the bowl of fruit on the coffee table. He gingerly picks an apple from the top of the pile. Its solid weight in his hand ensures crispness, not old or bruised enough to easily give way to his touch.

 Barely flexing his petite hand around its rounded surface, it shatters in his grasp. Juice splatters against his night shirt, Jongin’s arm, and the couch between himself and Baekhyun on his other side. The chunks of apple fall to his plate, mangled pieces of the once perfect fruit from mere seconds before. The room plunges into stunned silence.

 “I know what I am. Should you continue to let me stay here, no matter how long that is, you have to know too.”

 As expected, he gets no response. D.O finishes his breakfast as quickly as possible, and they silently move to put their dishes away together. Being amongst all these other bodies, working together on even such a mundane task, feels odd in a way he can’t quite fathom. He’s become so conditioned to the concept of being alone. When they take their seats again, he feels far more like the center of attention. He focuses on the ticking of the clock to quell the assassin side of his mind, attempting to plot an escape and leave no witnesses. Their vulnerability is so unsettling. Jongdae breaks the silence, smiling boldly.

 “Do you mind if I ask first? I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I love to hear myself talk." His tone is softer than usual despite the confident demeanor. D.O appreciates that, smiling back with a quick nod in response. “So we know your name because of the first night you stayed here. Well, your adopted name anyways. But...” There’s a conflict in his eyes, like he’s unsure if he should ask. “Junmyeon hyung said you mentioned others.”

 “Yes. I… well I never knew two of them. I just happened to find out about their existence as my time went by, through Kris too. But after he was gone, you know, I had plenty of time to piece together all he told me with the little hints the old man left over time.” He finds his eyes transfixed on the coffee table without noticing what he’s looking at; even thinking of the place sends him back into trance-like submission. “But there were three others before me. Kris, Luhan and Zitao.”

 “So Luhan was first. From what I hear he wasn’t expected to do much in terms of success, let alone surviving. I’ve seen photos somehow, and I can see why. He looked like a doll. Pale, delicate. Flower boy type. He was just meant to be the first guinea pig among us, to see if the surgeries could work. They did, but not well. The metal wasn’t strong enough and was far too cheap. Poisoned him from the inside out and made him deathly sick. Between that and the guilt of having to kill, he was gone not even three weeks after the surgeries ended.”

 “Zitao was progress, but not by much. Whereas his body became properly accustomed to the surgeries -this time with much more sustainable metals- his attitude never changed. He had a temper, this… this seething _rage_ over being put through all of this. He was constantly attempting to kill the man, wear him down while he was already at a disadvantage. But he just locked Zitao away with heavier bolts. One day Zitao attacked the old man with a paring knife he’d been cooking with. By the next day Zitao was gone and the man wouldn’t ever walk properly on his right leg again.”

 “Kris was last. The one I did meet. Taller guy, played basketball like he lived for it. I remember that was the first thing he would talk about when we talked about things we missed, just being out on the court. Being able to run when it wasn’t running for your life. The old man figured an athlete would be perfect for this kind of job- even if he was tall and noticeable he could get away, right? He had the right idea.”

 “For some reason, the job didn’t bother Kris. Not on the surface at least. He’d come home, practically bathed in blood some days, and he’d still try to joke with me. Keep in mind this is when I still tried to be normal. I thought it was terrifying, because who wouldn’t? I thought maybe I’d be next on his list, he just seemed so _capable_. I wondered so many times why he didn’t try what Zitao did- he probably could have gotten away with it. But he’d always had a pretty level head, I guess. He told me from the moment I met him, ‘Don’t get too attached to me, I’m not here for long. I’m gonna get out of here one day’. I always thought he was being impractical.”

 “But then, he did leave. He left for a mission one day and never came back. Our creator went to the basement where we slept and found his tracking device underneath his pillow. The one that had been in his chest.” D.O taps his chest hard enough for the sound of metal to come through. “Right underneath this plate. He cut the wires out with a nail file. But he never told me he was leaving. I understand, we weren’t supposed to be friends and there’s no way we could have both gotten away. I guess he just figured I would have snitched. Even now I’m not sure what I would have done.”

 “I think they were all related somehow, I don’t know how or why _he_ knew them. But none of them were Korean. I suspect he had some sort of twisted service he paid to kidnap them all and send them here from China. Or Canada, in Kris’ case. He suspected different diets would affect the sustainability of a body. Mental composure, too. I think he just didn’t want to get caught, kidnapping so close to home. Taking me must have been a lot easier, but riskier. I suppose he was getting too desperate to wait by then.”

 “I’m sorry,” Jongdae offers feebly to fill the extensive silence that's filled the air in the absence of D.O's voice. The former shrugs in response.

 “Don’t be. It didn’t affect me any.” It sounds selfish, even to him. It’s just literally impossible for him to feel guilty over it. He hopes they understand that. At least on a surface level, they seem to. It does nothing to help the pitied looks on their faces.

 “I actually… have one too. A question.” Minseok half-raises his arm like he’s in class. The confusion on his face is something D.O would expect to see in a classroom, too. Although it’s been awhile since he stepped foot in one. “It’s probably way too personal, but I’m just… stumped. Majoring in engineering and all, you strike me as a total anomaly. Do you know how he-”

 “Created me? I know those aren’t the words you want to say, but they are in a way aren’t they?” Shrugging, the cyborg scratches the bridge of his nose with great leisure for such a topic. “I remember it, yeah. He didn’t put me under any anesthetic, either, so if I think too hard about it I could probably remember the pain too.” Sehun is starting to turn an unflattering shade of green. Clearly not good to joke about. Grimacing his apology, D.O continues.

 “Anyway, it’s this… this second skeleton basically. Practically an entire new set of bones made from some sort of metal.” He looks back up to Minseok, but everyone seems just as fascinated. The scars come to mind and send a twinge of something unpleasant through his stomach. Ignoring it, he pushes up his sleeve. “Here, have a look.”

 Down the center of his forearm are two thick, raised scars. They’ve become a whitish pink by now, a sign of permanence. The other men gape at them in astonishment. Yixing’s hands dart forward to hover above them, looking pointedly at Jongdae. “Aren’t they right over…?”

 “The bones,” Jongdae finishes faintly. “The incisions are exactly over the bones.” Their recipient hums his confirmation.

 “He had some sort of medical degree it seems like, the old man knew where things went. Knew how to insert it all without messing with anything else, it seems. I mean sure it hurt me, but he wasn’t trying to ruin my body. He needed it.” He’s sure everyone is staring equally as hard, but something about how wide Chanyeol’s eyes are by comparison sets him on edge. D.O hastily rolls the sleeve back down and tugs it over his hands, and the others return to their seats. “You can basically see my skeleton from the outside because all the incisions were made the same way. If I shaved my head you could see the incisions from whatever he used to reinforce my skull, too.”

 “Do you know what kind? I’d imagine, I dunno, that it could be dangerous to your health.” Sehun inquires softly. Jongdae, so accustomed to the medical aspect of things, nods fervently in concern. To their dismay, he shakes his head.

 “I have no idea what’s inside me. To be honest, I’ve become so brainwashed into only doing what I’m told that I haven’t stopped to think about it since the days when he was putting it there. But whatever it is did what he wanted. I’m too strong to be beaten and too fast to be stopped.”

 “What was the point of all of this?” Junmyeon is even more repulsed today than he was the first night they discussed his situation; D.O’s almost sure it isn’t over him directly, but he wouldn’t blame him if it were. Nothing about his situation is entirely pleasant. “I just don’t understand subjecting _anyone_ to… to all of...”

 D.O opens his mouth to elaborate when it seems the older male’s given up, but the words don’t come. So much has happened, he’s changed so much. How is he meant to summarize years of imprisonment and corruptness in so little time? He sighs in exasperation. “So.... The man that… I guess kidnapped me, he was very old and dying of cancer. It was somehow caused by his job when he was younger. I don’t know what he did for a living. I don’t even know his name. All I know is that he created me to tie up his loose ends and get revenge on whoever wronged him Then I’d take their money back to him for chemo. But the cancer just kept coming back, coming back.” He feels numb, hears his voice but doesn’t feel his body at all. The memories consume all his senses until he’s nothing but them, and he still can’t stop telling them.

 “I’ve killed so many people for him. That’s all my life became: bloodshed. He’d send me out every day towards the end. Kill someone for their money or kill someone just because it’d make him feel better to know they were dead, too. He got so cynical, especially towards the end. They told him he was terminal and he just snapped. Those last months…” It’s not enough to explain it. He _can’t_ explain it. The blood may not be on his skin but he feels it there, it’s his own blood now. “I think he always knew he wasn’t going to survive. Why else would he have me kill all those people, if he thought he was going to survive? He tried to kill me too. Which brings us to where we are now."  
  
  As expected, a deafening quiet blankets itself over the entire room once he's determined that he's done talking. Nobody seems to have any questions, let alone responses or trivial comments. D.O sighs in slight frustration at himself for being so capable of silencing an entire room. "I'd assume that this is far from comfortable to talk about. It was a lot for me to endure, so I understand how experiencing it through stories would be painful too. If you don't mind, and all your questions are answered, I'd prefer to talk about something else now."

  Chanyeol -whom must have sat up when he was speaking, D.O realizes- looks up from his hands to glance around at the others with a forced aura of normality. It's apparent he's attempting to start up a more normal conversation and bring the room’s aura back to normal, but someone has to. He plants on a smile, nudging Sehun. “So I was actually planning to go produce some beats with Jukyung...”

 But D.O hears nothing after that name. It strikes a chord with him, a deep reaction that takes away the sensation of all else around him. He’s not sure why -it’s just a name after all- but even then it feels like so much more. It’s not even the whole name that feels important. _Kyung, Kyung..._

 “What’s wrong, D.O?” Jongin says gently. One of his gentle, tanned hands shocks him from the stupor with a squeeze to his knee. To his credit, D.O doesn’t try to fight it off despite all his inhuman reflexes. He knows it’s out of good intention, but it’s more uncomfortable than helpful. He looks away.

 “Nothing, I’m fine. It just sounded… oddly personal. I know it from somewhere. I think it's... my name.”

  "Your name?" Jongin's hand grips his knee as Yixing speaks up, the whole room leaning closer with looks of astonishment. "Do you really think so?'

  "Yeah, but I dunno. I can't remember." Furrowing his brow hard, he tries frantically to pull up memories that have been scared out of him. _There has to be something._ “Kyung...mi?” he muses softly. Junmyeon cracks a soft smile that he pauses to stare at. “Why is that funny?”

 “It isn’t, per se, that’s just a rather feminine name.”

 “Oh.” a shrug. “Maybe it was my sister.”

 “Sister? You have family?”

 “All humans do,” He states in a matter-of-fact way, despite not feeling human at all. “I just don’t necessarily have mine anymore.”

 “You can have them, you know.” Sehun blurts. “We could find them for you.” But an uneasy sensation settles in the air when the assassin shakes his head with finality.

 “I believe they’re dead.”

 “But are you sure?” He’s starting to catch on already to Chanyeol being the optimistic one. It’s nearly admirable. D.O almost feels bad that he has to be the one to diminish it again. He nods once more.

 “One of my first missions was to cut all ties. To make sure I knew I had nobody to go back to by seeing it firsthand.”

 Baekhyun at his side looks horrified, they all do as they realize the connotation. But it’s Baekhyun who asks, voice as frail and as soft as D.O knows his body is. As frail as all their bodies are. “What did you have to do?"

 He’d had no idea he could still feel guilt. His stomach churns anyways, like he has to throw up. He hasn’t done that since the first enhancement surgeries.

 “I had to set their house on fire in the middle of the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is still interesting, even though it's pretty background-centric. I figured there was so much to Kyungsoo that it was good to at least have a steady foundation to build off of. It makes him a bit easier to understand as a character for the future, too.  
> How are you guys liking the story so far? Please let me know! I never do chaptered fics so I'm excited to hear your thoughts. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

 The rest of the day had passed in relative tension. Nobody mentioned it, but D.O could feel it, in furtive sidelong glances and the hesitance with which they all talked to him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand where they were coming from- and frankly he almost admired them for it. There was no way he would have done the same thing, given their situation. In all honesty, the cyborg was still convinced they had an ulterior motive for saving him in the first place.

 Well, if it could be called saving. He still wasn’t sure he was much better off here. People like him didn’t _get_ better, and if he were to cross paths with Kris again the other man would probably agree.

 In any case, D.O had been quick to retreat to his room and save them all the unbearable tension that must come with knowing you’ve given food and shelter to someone that should be serving several life sentences for all he’s been made to do.

 And that night, he had dreamt for the first time in ages. And memories of a past life he thought he’d forgotten entirely had come to him as though it had been only yesterday.

 

\--

 

  _Valentine’s Day. He’d never been an avid fan of conventional holidays, especially not one that preyed on the celebrators being in a relationship. Of course, he supposed one had to be_ in _a relationship before they could fully judge the formalities of the day._

_Rather than hiding in his dorm room, or roaming the streets with a foul taste on his tongue at all the overplayed romance, the male is sitting in a coffee shop with a friend. His best friend, Hyunsik, who just so happens to be mourning his most recent breakup._

  _“When are you going to realize that this is hurting you far more than it’s hurting her?” Speaking up, he dares to look through his fringe at his closest companion. “She’s moved on Hyunsik, we both just saw her over there with some new play thing of hers.”_

_His best friend visibly winces at the harsh term as he stares at the tabletop; it was just so manipulative by nature, just as she had been without him knowing until it was too late. “Plaything”. A few days ago, Hyunsik would have deemed them “soulmates”. But they both knew he had a way of falling helplessly and far too fast for every woman he dated._

_With this one as he had every woman before, Hyunsik had assumed they were meant to be and that she had loved him unconditionally. No matter how many times his heart was broken, the claims remained the same. There were always promises of “This one’s special”, the inevitable “Trust me, I’m onto something this time”. He really never was onto anything but hopeless romanticism. But his friend knew better than to attempt to correct him; he didn’t have the nerve to break Hyunsik’s heart before it was time. Better to stay on the man’s good side and act surprised than say he knew it and face being pushed away, he supposed._

_In all honesty, it had always confused him how Hyunsik could manage to be one of the most popular boys at their school and yet always be the one that got played. One would assume that school celebrities would have girls falling over them, ready to be let down. And they did, of course. Hyunsik just always managed to find the one girl that wasn’t prepared to be used at his disposal. He had all throughout high school and he would stay the same through university, and probably long after._

_“I know you saw this one coming too, didn’t you?” Smiling up at him, Hyunsik smirks a little. Tired eyes, slightly swollen from crying the night before despite the cold compresses. “You always do, but you say nothing. Like you’re just waiting for the perfect moment to throw all of them back in my face.” But there’s a glimmer of playfulness beneath all that hurt, an attempt at normality again. The other man scoffs, lips quirking up._

_“Maybe that’s what I’m doing, yeah.”_

_“Oh, Kyungsoo.” His stomach flipped, somersaulted at the very utterance of his name. Such a tone of reverence, paired with a smile that said he was so very much treasured by the man before him. Even if it wasn’t exactly in the same way he hoped for or felt for Hyunsik._

_In a strange way, it almost was like he was waiting to throw Hyunsik’s relationships back in his face. But the intent was by no means cruel. He’d been harboring a monstrous, terribly inconvenient crush on his closest friend for the past several years. Despite all the opportunities for error, drunk karaoke nights and the constant rumors about them secretly dating in high school, he’d kept it under wraps so well that Hyunsik had never noticed. So maybe, Kyungsoo had actually wished this girl would fall through like the rest of them. Then he could show Hyunsik with his devout loyalty that maybe he’d be worth a shot, too._

_Which was what he was planning to do right now, a small heart shaped chocolate box and a pale pink rose beside his thigh in the comfortable booth that he was fidgeting in a little too much to pass off as entirely casual._

_“Why does it matter so much to you, anyways? It’s not like you have to listen to me whine about the same issues time after time, nobody else does. I understand why, too; it must get so redundant.” Hyunsik inquires, sipping at the lukewarm, slightly-overpriced latte he’d bought to be allowed to loiter in the cafe; at least then he could wallow with a nice atmosphere, he’d explained. Kyungsoo found the reasoning both charming and melodramatic. Taking a deep breath, the latter sits up taller._

_“I have to listen because it somewhat affects my own love life. Or, well… I’d like to hope that it would.” His hands, twitchy from nerves, whip out the chocolates and the single flower and come to rest on the table. Hyunsik looks entirely lost._

_“What do you mean? Did you want to… get with her or something?” Gesturing in the direction of his latest ex, Hyunsik doesn’t seem entirely pleased. Kyungsoo shakes his head fast in vehement denial._

_“God, no. Not my type at all.” Chuckling at the joke that he’s sure Hyunsik doesn’t understand yet, he takes a deep breath and continues. “No, I’m actually here for the other half of the equation.”_

_It takes Hyunsik almost a full minute to comprehend what’s going on, and even when he speaks it’s with great hesitance. “You mean.. You’re here to woo me?” His tone drips with disbelief._

_“Yes. It’s taken me so long, but I finally have the proper chance to tell you. As long as you don’t consider the fact that it’s the day after she broke your heart.” He cracks a smile, expecting Hyunsik to smile angelically back. The smile doesn’t come._

_“Kyungsoo.” The tone doesn’t sit easy with him. Hyunsik sounds disappointed. Like he’s dealing with a particularly tiring child and not another grown man’s emotions. One of the most profound emotions, at that. “This isn’t funny.”_

_“I’m not trying to be funny, I’m being honest,” Kyungsoo insists, staring down at the kitschy heart shaped box. “And I’m not just saying this because it’s the holiday of love, or whatever. I really do like you Hyunsik, even though I didn’t go into this friendship knowing that. You’re just so nice, and funny, sensitive...” The more he talks the more he hates himself for bringing these feelings up. What a stupid thing to do on impulse. Years of hiding and longing in silence, wasted. And for what? Suddenly he’s filled with a far more profound disappointment than what his friend’s expressing. What could he possibly have hoped to accomplish by doing this anyways? Humiliating himself? Hyunsik didn’t like other men. “I hope you’ll at least consider it.”_

_Nothing could have prepared him for the gut-wrenching anxiety that threatens to drown him as Hyunsik stands up from his seat in their booth. He’d sensed this heartbreak just as quickly as he had all of Hyunsik’s other failed relationships. How stupid he’d been to chase after someone who’d just as easily break Kyungsoo’s own heart as all the girls that had broken the other man’s._

_“I’m sorry, but… I could never love you that way.” His tone is hushed- of course he wouldn’t mean to humiliate Kyungsoo in front of a cafe full of people. They are friends, after all, and Hyunsik is so kind. He’d been the foolish one for reading too far into that goodwill. “Sorry, I’ll see you later.”_

_There wouldn’t be a later. Unbeknownst to them both, Kyungsoo would go missing the very next day._

 

\--

 

 He wakes up with a gasp, sitting upright as soon as his wits are about him. His heart hammers so intensely that he can’t remember the last time it happened so badly. This was more than the result of something strenuous on his body, it was affecting his mind. His very being.

 He knew his very own name again. The soft tone he’d heard it in consumes all other sound, drowns out the roar of his frantic heartbeat in his ears. The soft, numbing sensation it provokes is far more palpable than the cold sweat on his skin.

  _Kyungsoo._

 A gentle knock on the door shakes him from his reverie. “May I come in?” A sweet lilting tone asks. Playful even in the most casual of ways. Baekhyun.

 “Sure,” he responds dumbly, too confounded to offer much else. The door opens, a head with dyed auburn hair and a dainty smiling face popping into the room, followed apprehensively by the rest of him.

 “Are you alright? I heard mumbling, a couple gasps. Like you were talking in your sleep.” There’s an intriguing balance of mirth and concern in his eyes. “It would be kinda funny if you were more talkative in your sleep than you are in person.”

 “Oh.” He says meekly, staring back rather helplessly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was being that quiet.” Baekhyun gives him a halfhearted grimace in response.

 “That’s not something to apologize for, D.O. Is something the matter?” As soon as the other man asks, he knows something really is wrong, yet right at the same time.

 “Not… not quite. But I had a dream.” Baekhyun’s eyes light up with curiosity at the mention, and he comes into the room to perch his slight body on the edge of the bed. “It wasn’t anything huge or strange, just an old friend. My name.”

 “Your name?” Baekhyun leans in almost instantly, eyes wide and mouth gaping in surprise. “What is it?”

 “Kyungsoo.” Saying it aloud sends a shiver down his back- it feels right. It feels normal, almost disturbingly so. Nothing’s ever normal anymore. “I don’t know my family name, but it’s Kyungsoo. _I’m_ Kyungsoo.”

 “That’s fantastic!” The other man is beaming as though it’s something he’s been personally concerned about. “I can’t believe you remembered it, we were so worried maybe you’d...” Guilt seeps into his features, tainting the sheer joy that had been there before. “Maybe you’d not remember anything at all. We weren’t sure what to do then.”

 “You don’t have to do anything, whether I remember or not.” Kyungsoo’s voice is soft, and he’s sure it reflects the confusion he feels. “It’s not like I’m your responsibility or anything.”

 “That’s not quite how we see things. And we enjoy taking care of you, so please don’t feel like a burden or anything.” Perching gently on the bed, Baekhyun peers at him while brushing back his fringe. “What else do you remember about the dream? You don’t have to share, of course.”

 Sitting up, Kyungsoo feels a strange tightness at the back of his throat. His body writes it off as normal, but all these human senses, emotions, rushing back to him are downright alarming. “I… confessed to my friend.”

  “Oh? Confessed your love, you mean?”

 Kyungsoo nods again, hesitance seeping into every fiber of his being. It’s almost comforting to be on edge like this, until he realizes the human fear that comes along with it. None of this feels comfortable at all. “But he doesn’t like other men. At least, he hadn’t prior to the last time I saw him.”

 Baekhyun looks taken aback, but by no means offended. “That’s really unfortunate, I’m sorry.” His cheeks are tinged with a faint pink, smile becoming timid. “It might put you at ease to know that most of us can relate to that on some level. Minseok has a serious girlfriend and Yixing is focusing on just loving himself for the time being, but the rest of us are romantically interested in men. Either exclusively or along with women.”

 “It does.” Nodding to him, Kyungsoo offers an appreciative smile of his own. A few years ago, he might have read into being surrounded by so many other men with his preferences. It might have even been some sort of relief for all the times he’d felt out of place or wrong for it. Despite his words, he hardly feels anything at all.

 They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, Baekhyun’s eyes wandering around the room. He seems to take stock of their surroundings: the blank screen of the television, its remote untouched on the nightstand; a haphazard pile of books towers beneath the books, threatening to topple over at the slightest of touches that has yet to come. A new sketchbook, pencil and eraser, all showing misuse from their immaculate condition alongside the other methods of entertainment. The lack of sound seems to drive the other man mad after a short while, gentle pink lips puffed out in a pout.

 “What do you do when we aren’t around? I know we said you could use all these things and more.”

 “Nothing.” It’s almost embarrassing to admit. Which is odd- he couldn’t really care less what any of them think of him. “I got used to sitting in the basement without anything to entertain myself. And after learning to be afraid of my own thoughts and memories, I just started spacing out. He used to always say it was like I was really a-”

 “ _Robot,_ ” Baekhyun whispers in disbelief. His eyes search for a moment, appraise Kyungsoo’s every feature as though he’s looking for something. A hint, perhaps, that they’d taken a true robot into their home in the hopes of making a friend. Kyungsoo could have proved that to them without having Minseok and Sehun inspect his hardware. Noticing he’s staring too long -by human standards, at least- Baekhyun’s eyes drop back to his lap. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s getting into me. This is just so new, to _all_ of us. Minseok asked his professor if you should even hypothetically be living like this, had his professor ask other documented experts. They all say it can’t be done, and I just wonder how you can be such a…”

 “Freak?”

 “ _Miracle._ ” Baekhyun asserts, a sudden fire burning deep in his dark eyes. “I’m fascinated by how resilient you are. We just go around living our basic lives thinking we have it tough, and here you are...” Seeming to lose all other words, he settles for shaking his head with a wild-eyed smile. “I could never do what you do.”

 “You don’t want to, Baekhyun.” His lips press into a hard line, a sudden aggressiveness to his tone that he doesn’t intend to use. “I don’t know if I can ever tell you all in total detail how much I’ve done. It’s horribly inhumane.”

 “And we don’t expect that of you.” He shrugs simply, tracing geometric patterns in the modern design of the comforter. “Everyone has their secrets, I’m sure you know that. You’re entitled to your own.” Kyungsoo would argue that the secrets he has could easily put all of them in danger, or entirely ruin their unwarranted trust in him. But something about the easy sort of optimism in Baekhyun’s eyes, the sureness of his voice, shuts him up. He doesn’t know why, but it feels selfish. It’s been so long since he was liberated that Kyungsoo can’t remember doing anything for himself.

 Another strange glimmer catches in Baekhyun’s eyes, the other man staring intently at his borrowed shirt. “If you’re still wearing that ridiculously oversized pajama shirt of Junmyeon’s, I’m guessing you don’t have any other clothes. We should go shopping next weekend, I’ve been looking for an excuse to go out.”

 Kyungsoo freezes before he can even manage to open his mouth. It’s more than the simple trip Baekhyun makes it out to be, it’s more selfless charity to someone that deserves none of it. It means more inconveniencing their perfect, normal, human life with his trust issues and emotionless presence. The very idea of the trip implies he’s meant to stay around longer. Maybe even permanently, for all he knows.

 “I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” Baekhyun giggles at his reluctant tone, a joyful melody that bubbles out of his throat.

 “Don’t sound so pained, of course you do. Although I’ve never met anyone that was too humble to accept a new wardrobe for free.”

 “But what about the others?" Something about looking Baekhyun in the eyes makes his stomach feel unpleasant; he glances away. "I don’t suppose you’d come to me without talking to them first, but they can’t all want me to...”

 “Kyungsoo.” All of his attention is once again demanded by Baekhyun’s small frame and delicate tone. Time seems to stand still around his gentle build, all the energy in the world resting on his almost disproportionately broad shoulders. “We would love it if you would join us.”

 He isn’t quite sure how to properly respond to that and all its implications. Baekhyun seems to know his confusion, but doesn’t mind it at all or focus on the complexity. There must be so much patience involved in teaching someone how to be a functioning human. Like a parent, but so much more convoluted. And yet he doesn’t see how things could go any worse than they already have. They don’t seem to want to give up yet.

 “I suppose there’s no harm in trying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not what you expected was it? I felt like there needed to be a strong indicator of his past self that spoke on multiple levels, so that things didn’t just happen later that come out of nowhere or feel forced.  
> I hope that despite all the exploration of Kyungsoo's past so far you guys are enjoying it! Writing chaptered fics is a process that I still haven't mastered, so let's all enjoy this experience together.


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